


The Lonely Man and the Mermaid's Grandmother

by Atra Materia (TheDarkMaterial)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-23
Updated: 2004-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkMaterial/pseuds/Atra%20Materia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men at sea sometimes see odd things - or wish they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lonely Man and the Mermaid's Grandmother

Edmund Murtogg had never seen a mermaid - at least, not until that balmy September morn.

The groans and curses that met his shout of, "Mermaid off the port bow!" were more disappointing than unexpected - the young Navyman was neither the brightest candle in the sconce, nor the sharpest shot on the ship, and there was a reason he was never assigned to the crow's nest anymore. He was not so much the boy who cried wolf as the boy who cried large dog without ascertaining precisely what sort of large dog was apaw. He meant well. He just didn't _see_ so well, and the road to hell was cobbled with many a good and blurry intention.

It was no secret that his place in the ranks had been secured by the long and faithful service of his father, his grandfather, and a hefty amount of coin passed under the table at the Stagg's Head, though it wasn't something that was spoken of. Whispered of, but never where the civilians who placed their faith in the Royal Navy could hear, lest they lose it and take to whispers of their own. Familial fondness could only go so far, however, and there had been a collective sigh of relief breathed on the London docks the morning the ship bearing Edmund Murtogg had set sail for the colonies.

The _Mary Thomas_ had been at sea for the better part of two months, but only in the past few weeks had the scenery begun to change from the grey, storm-tossed waves and sky of the Old World to the brilliant, glassy blue of the New. It had done surprisingly little to brighten the moods of the men aboard; most of whom were more than ready to disembark, pretend to be paying attention to fresh orders, and head off for a strong drink, a hunk of beef not shrivelled with salt, and a comfortable bed - preferably with a comfortable wench in it. No, it was no surprise at all that few of the crew cared to have their heads filled with the promise of one of the lovely lasses of the landless; only to have it broken in a crash of seawater and salt spray on the stern of the ship.

"There are. No. Mermaids," Mullroy pointed out as he moseyed over to the rail himself - helpfully, perhaps; though his tone suggested that he was more exasperated with the other man than anything else.

"Of course there are," Murtogg retorted. "I've just seen one, haven't I?"

"You've seen a mermaid." A moment passed. "You've seen a woman with a trollop's top and a fish's tail, who waits in the middle of the deep to offer lonely seamen a good time."

"I saw a tail."

"You haven't seen a -"

"There she is again, if you want to have a look." Murtogg smirked.

Another moment passed.

"Bit pudgy, isn't she?" Mullroy pursed his lips; leaning forward to get a better look at the wide, flat flukes passing the bow.

Murtogg shrugged. "Some people like 'em that way."

"And she's got whiskers, too." The purse became a frown of distaste as the mermaid's bristled snout broke the surface. "My friend -" He straightened, clapping a hand over Murtogg's shoulder. "I do believe you have found yourself a mermaid's grandmother." Shaking his head, he gave a sympathetic cluck. "Well, beggars can't be choosers, I suppose." With that, he moved away; thinking it high time to return to his quarters before the sun got to him, too.

"Hnf." Murtogg snorted quietly, eyeing his new friend. Perhaps Mullroy was right, after all - not only was she an elderly, rather potato-shaped wench; she was lacking anything resembling a singing voice and seemed to have a similar dearth of interest in luring him to his pleasurable, if waterlogged, death. Well, so much for mermaids. With another shrug, he pushed away from the rail and wandered belowdecks himself.

No, Edmund Murtogg had never seen a manatee - at least, not until that balmy September morn.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Originally written for the 'Creatures of the Sea' challenge at Pirates500-LJ.


End file.
